Every year, roughly twice a year, there are waves of new teachers arriving in Korea. Paired with these arrivals is an exodus, as teachers leave to teach elsewhere, return home, study, or pursue other careers. As the school semesters end in March and September, many contracts end at the same time. Each time this happens, Kris and have friends that we have garnered, through Ultimate or otherwise, say farewell to Korea. Each leaving season has had its share of painful goodbyes, but this particular one has been especially severe, with a number of our close friends choking up and promising to see us again and stay in contact.
With the regularity at which this happens, you’d think that it might get easier over time. The more people we see go, the more we get used to the idea that friendships forged in Korea will most likely have their nature change as people inevitably leave. For some, this is the case. We know of a good deal of people who are used to the cycle of new people arriving and old friends leaving. We even thought that we were beginning to become accustomed to its flow until this March arrived.
With every exodus, some claim that ‘Oh, this one was much worse than the other ones.’ This March, it was our turn to utter that oft-heard phrase. A number of our close friends decided to move on and move out. A couple that we’ve grown close to in Seoul over board games and gushing about our pets elected to see some of the world before looking for new teaching work. Luckily for us, that new teaching work happened to be in Korea again, so they will only be out of the country for a couple of months before returning. Another couple who we bonded with deeply despite only seeing a handful of times outside the Ultimate setting. A man who never ceased being the tallest or kindest person in any room decided to go back to the US and make it a better place (he hasn’t quite left yet, but he will soon, and definitely warrants a mention here). A fellow South African we met on our first ROK-U team, who we grew to know and love through playing far too many games of Dota and drinking too much red wine moved back to South Africa to pursue a new career path.
Some people steel themselves against the ever-present reality of people exiting Korea by avoiding new friendships to prevent getting hurt more regularly by exits. Kris and I cannot face that possibility. Some leaving seasons, we only lose touch with a couple of acquaintances and count ourselves lucky. Other times, like this March, we see a large portion of our core friend group get on planes elsewhere.
Leaving Korea doesn’t mean the end of these friendships, but it does instill a sense of longing for a return to the previous status quo. No longer can we simply pop down for a chat or meet for dinner. Now, there is online video chat and instant messaging, and perhaps meeting up if we land up being in the same country for some reason. Some friendships adapt to this change and survive, whereas others fade and dull over time.
The constant flow of expats through Korea (or, I’d imagine, any other country where foreign workers are hired) is a reality that is not mentioned when you are job hunting. There is no warning that people you grow attached to will bid you farewell on a semi-regular basis. It is a phenomenon that you learn of only through experiencing it. It hurts. Sometimes it hurts a little. Sometimes it leaves you on the verge of tears writing a string of words into the black void of the Internet to try and ease the pain.